


Pie

by gaialux



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Domestic, Fluff, M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-05
Updated: 2013-08-05
Packaged: 2017-12-22 12:14:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/913095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaialux/pseuds/gaialux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coffee, pie, and Sam's hoodie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pie

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a comment-fic prompt: coffee, pie, and Sam’s hoodie.
> 
> Supernatural does not belong to me. This piece of fiction was written for entertainment purposes only, no profit is gained.

They settle down in a suburban townhouse, just off the main freeway and so, totally  _normal_  that Dean's sure it could never last.  
  
"Stop thinking some demon's gonna attack," Sam tells him.   
  
Dean brushes it off, but the fear never leaves. He watches Sam sleep, curled up on the California King Dean's finally accepted to sharing. It's still weird sometimes, but they introduced themselves as boyfriend and boyfriend and that's the story they stick to.  
  
Sometimes Dean misses them being Winchesters.  
  
All those sleepless nights eventually catch up with him with something so perceptually  _normal_  that Dean laughs about it: A cold. A common, garden-variety, run-o-the-mill cold.  
  
He laughs, then he worries. "Can't ghost make you sick?" he asks Sam.  
  
"Sure. So can  _germs_. Go to sleep."  
  
Dean grumbles about how he never gets sick, how sickness means injury and injury means hospital if it's bad enough to stop him hunting. Only they don't hunt anymore. He frowns and shuffles back to bed.  
  
Sam brings him coffee.  _Real_  coffee. The kind you need beans and frothy milk and a machine to create. It smells perfect, good enough that Dean thinks he's been completely cured.   
  
Then he starts hacking up phlegm and Sam wrinkles his nose, backing out of the room slowly.  
  
He sleeps most of the day, in and out of dreams.  _Good_  dreams, the kind that include Sam. Dean has nightmares almost constantly when he's 100% healthy, so it's only fitting a fever brings about the opposite. Just like he's the opposite of most people.  
  
Dean's really not one to linger, and he grows restless. Throws back the cover as he watches the nuclear-green numbers of their bedside clock change from 8:34 to 8:35 to 8:36, and meanders toward their living room.  
  
It's small, the house; bedroom, bathroom, living room, kitchen, laundry. He thinks it's perfect, but doesn't tell Sam that. His brother's gotta buy him a freakin'  _castle_  to make Dean totally happy. Yeah.  
  
He finds Sam sitting on the overstuffed armchair, book in hand.   
  
"Nerd," Dean mutters.  
  
Sam looks up, a loose frown drawing lines on his forehead. He folds the book over the arm of the chair and stands, walking closer to Dean.  
  
"You think you should be up?" He asks.  
  
"It's a  _cold_ , Sam," Dean says, "You said so yourself."  
  
"You should still sleep," he insists.  
  
"Come to bed with me?" He wiggles his eyebrows.  
  
Sam rolls his eyes, then he looks Dean up and down, confusion coating his face. Dean's just as confused.   
  
"Are you wearing my hoodie?" Sam asks eventually.  
  
Dean takes a step back and falls to the couch, wrapping his arms around his chest. "All my clothes are in the wash," he defends. "And it's warm."  
  
Sam grins and comes to sit on the couch. "You really are getting into this apple-pie life, aren't you?"  
  
"You should bake me pie," Dean states, definite.  
  
Sam smiles, kisses him. "Pie it is."


End file.
